A New Dawn
by shiftyjake
Summary: Post NFA. This one picks up where NFA left off, with our heroes facing impossible odds, at least until they get some unexpected help. First four chapters up!
1. ch1 A Hard Day's Night

Here's my first attempt at fanfiction... or for that matter fiction of any kind. Mostly this started as a way to fill in plot holes that have been bugging me for years now. Like, who _was_ the Doctor (I just don't believe it was Spike), and how _did _Angel get out of hell, what happened to Dawn's keyness, and what was up with that dominoes comment Doc made that one time? Anyway, it seems to have run away with me. This is a work in progress, and I welcome constructive criticism (my muse survives almost exclusively on Doritos and comments, so please comment :)).

Many thanks to my lovely beta, Mayalaen :)

**Title:** A New Dawn

******Pairing:** Spike/Gunn friendship, Spike/Dawn eventually, and maybe even a little Dawn/female OC just for the heck of it.

**Rating:** PG-13 for violence, language (ratings pertain to the chapter linked in the post. That way, if you like the first few chapters but squick easy, you can skip the NC-17's)

******Summery:** Post NFA. This one picks up where NFA left off, with our heroes facing impossible odds, at least until they get some unexpected help.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. I'm just borrowing it, and when I'm done I'll put it back where I found it.  


**A Hard Day's Night**

"Let's go to work."

As one, all four surviving members of Team Angel strode purposefully toward the advancing demon army. As he approached the line, Angel swung his sword up and then down again, neatly slicing the head off of the first demon soldier he met. He spun gracefully and buried his sword to the hilt in the chest of another demon, then pulled his sword swiftly up and out again, slicing the demon from mid-chest to shoulder.

Beside him, Charles Gunn swung his battle axe up, down, right, and left, cutting down demon after demon. By now all four were surrounded by demons. Gunn spun on his heel, ignoring the pain in his belly, cleaving a demon from head to navel in one blow. Someone shouted his name, and he turned toward the sound, but got stuck halfway. Looking down, he saw a demon's sword sprouting from the side of his rib cage. It seemed to grow, to lengthen impossibly as the soldier pulled it out. With a strangled yell that bubbled ominously in his chest, Gun swung his axe once more, and he felt sure as he fell and his vision narrowed to a tunnel and finally failed that his killer fell, too.

Spike saw Gunn ahead of him as the vampire fought bare-handed. He was impressed by Gunn's bravery in the face of certain death. The erstwhile lawyer was only human, after all. Fists and feet flew lightening-fast, and Spike whooped joyfully as he gave his demon free rein. Skulls crunched under his boots like hard candy in his mouth, and just as sweetly. Bones snapped and viscera squished in his fists like rotten peaches. He felt his injuries distantly: a sword cut on his thigh, a bone-bruising club to his left arm. They paled in comparison to the dark and blood-splattered elation of _violence_ that sang through his veins. For a moment there seemed to be no demons in his reach, and he looked over to where he'd last seen Gunn, but couldn't find him.

"Charlie!" He shouted, and ran to where he thought he's seen the man last. Coming up behind a demon, he deftly took its head in both hands and wrenched it around until it faced him. He laughed at the sight of it, the head turned around backwards, as the body fell. He sobered when he spotted Gunn's body -- bloody, trampled and sprawled on the pavement. There was no time for grief, but he respected Charles, who'd died courageously doing his life's work.

"Good night, Charlie-boy," he said as he picked up Gunn's axe and swung it at a demon that had the gall to shove a sword in his chest.

Bodies flew around Illyria. She swung one by the leg into a crowd of demons on her right, then landed a punch on the chest of another that sent it soaring into a brick wall. Through a break in the fighting, she saw Spike, Gunn's axe in hand, and deduced that Gunn had succumbed to his injuries as she'd predicted. She nodded to herself and thought that he was a true warrior, despite his humanity, and had died a good death. She grabbed a demon by his breast plate and a leg and slammed him head-first into concrete.

Angel's sword had broken, lodged in a demon's armor, but he'd picked up two more and continued to fight. He cut a demon neatly in half and turned, expecting to find another to replace him, but saw only bodies and the retreating backs of the demon horde. Retreating? There was Spike, covered in blood and other, thicker things, staring in disbelief at the retreating army. Angel heard a scream as Illyria dismembered one last demon and also turned toward the other end of the alley to stare at the demons as they disappeared into the rain.

Spike laughed and yelled after them. "That's right, you fucking ponces! Run! Big Bad's comin' to—" his bravado was ruined by a wet, choking cough. He spit something dark and wet onto the street, and swore quietly.

A gust of air made Angel stumble back a step. The three survivors looked up as the dragon screeched at them from above, flames dancing brightly among its many, many teeth. It beat its wings again, sending another hot burst of air into the alley. The dragon screamed again, and beating its wings one last time, dived toward the narrow alley, mouth open and bright.

Angel tightened his grip on his swords and braced himself.

"Oi, Peaches!" Spike called, as all three ran out of the path of the dragon's attack, "You still want bagsies?"

Before Angel could answer, a bright blue bolt of lightening arced out of the darkness and struck the dragon just as it darted lithely between the Hyperion and the neighboring building. The dragon crashed into the other building, shattering brick and leaving a dent in the wall as it fell heavily into the alley.

Angel changed course instantly, and ran with superhuman speed toward the dragon. It was already shaking its head and getting to its feet as Angel, with a grim smile on his face, called over his shoulder, "Forget it, Spike. I called it!" More lightening lit up the night, showing that the demon army had only retreated to the mouth of the alley, eagerly awaiting their turn to surge forward again. Angel leapt onto the dragon's neck, slick with rainwater, just as the lightening struck the army near its center. The lightening stopped as the rain over the demons seemed to catch fire. Tiny drops of flame fell from the sky. At first just a few, then a torrent of tiny flames that hissed and sizzled where they hit wet pavement and flesh. The heat soon dried the clothing and skin of the army, allowing each to catch fire easily. The army screamed as if it had one voice as each soldier felt the sizzling flames and ran in panic. The army flowed haphazardly down the alley and into the streets of Los Angeles, the flaming drops of rain and renewed blue lightening following them wherever they ran.

Angel dropped one sword, needing a hand to grip the slick, scaly skin of the dragon's neck. The vampire plunged the other sword into the neck, and screamed with the dragon as the hot blood sprayed his hands and face, scalding him. The dragon beat its wings and reached both front claws around its neck to scrabble at Angel and his sword. They cut through the thick leather of his jacket and left deep gouges in his back. He roared, but kept his grip on the sword and began determinedly to saw into the dragon's flesh with it.

Spike and Illyria saw the fire and the burning demons once more advancing toward them.

Spike hesitated. "Blue," he called, "are god-kings familiar with the concept of tactical retreat?"

Never taking her eyes off the now-flaming horde, the former demon king said firmly, "No," and strode forward to meet the enemy.

Spike sneered and, adjusting his coat, swaggered after her. "Yeah," he said, "who needs it?"

"Spike!" said a familiar voice in his head, "Get the survivors, I'll take care of the giant." Spike slowed.

"Red?" he called, as the fire vanished from the sky, reverting to normal rain.

"Go, you pathetic excuse for a hero!" Willow screamed in his head. Spike did not have time to respond to the venom in her 'voice' as he approached the first of the injured demon soldiers. Most had collapsed, burnt and dying, but a few still stood and fought.

Illyria once again began tossing demons around the alley like rag dolls. Mixed in with her grief-turned-battle lust was disappointment that she would not get to kill the giant. She channeled it into her fury, and was pleased by the sound of flesh against brick and concrete.


	2. ch2 That Old Black Magic

Here's my first attempt at fanfiction... or for that matter fiction of any kind. Mostly this started as a way to fill in plot holes that have been bugging me for years now. Like, who _was_ the Doctor (I just don't believe it was Spike), and how _did _Angel get out of hell, what happened to Dawn's keyness, and what was up with that dominoes comment Doc made that one time? Anyway, it seems to have run away with me. This is a work in progress, and I welcome constructive criticism (my muse survives almost exclusively on Doritos and comments, so please comment :)).

Many thanks to my lovely beta, Mayalaen :)

**Title:** A New Dawn

******Pairing:** Spike/Gunn friendship, Spike/Dawn eventually, and maybe even a little Dawn/female OC just for the heck of it.

**Rating:** PG-13 for violence, language (ratings pertain to the chapter linked in the post. That way, if you like the first few chapters but squick easy, you can skip the NC-17's)

******Summery:** Post NFA. This one picks up where NFA left off, with our heroes facing impossible odds, at least until they get some unexpected help.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. I'm just borrowing it, and when I'm done I'll put it back where I found it.  


**That old Black Magic**

A block away, fire-balls and lightening bolts rained down on the giant until it fell, collapsing one side of a warehouse under its weight. From the roof of the Hyperion, Willow watched with black eyes, black hair plastered to her face and neck. A wicked smile played at the corners of her mouth and she giggled. "Giant go crunch," she said to herself, then wondered if Rupert would make the same noise. "Daddy Giles shouldn't hide things from planet-jugglers," she said out loud as she prepared to teleport back to England, her work here complete.

From the storm clouds above her head, a glowing face appeared, lightening leaping around it like streaming hair. A voice like thunder only she could hear called to her.

"Witch!" it boomed, "Stay where you are!"

"Osiris," she said sweetly, "I've got a bone to pick with you, but we'll have to save that for later." Her smile vanished, her lips curling with disgust at the thought of the man who'd let Fred die, who would have let the Wolf, Ram and Hart win Los Angeles and maybe the world out of sheer _pettiness_. "Dumbledore's gonna pay."

The face in the sky smiled then. "No," said the god of death and resurrection. "I have a present for you, and a prophesy to fulfill." Willow gasped, and her eyes rolled back in her head as the god's power poured into her, filling her up to the brim and nearly spilling over, flooding the alley below.

Angel's hands were raw and blistered from the boiling blood of the dragon, but the pain in his back was far worse. He lay still on the dragon's carcass, surveying the carnage around him. Distantly, he could still hear the screams and battle cries blocks away, where Spike and Illyria destroyed what was left of the demon army of Wolfram and Hart. He moved to stand up, wanting to join them, but his muscles weren't working right. He slumped back down with a groan.

Willow struggled to contain the power. She could feel it inside her, burning under her skin and straining the connections between her muscles and bones to the breaking point. It wanted out. Her rage and bitterness fled in the face of the overwhelming instinct of self-preservation. She could feel the tough tissues in her joints begin to tear. A shoulder spontaneously dislocated and she screamed. She had to find a place for it to go, where it would be expended, used up. She thought her nose was running, but knew better when a thick, coppery drop fell into her open mouth. Through the tiny tears in the blood vessels in her nose, the power leaked out. She snatched at it with invisible fingers, but couldn't hold it. The blood dripped down her chin and onto her blouse. She couldn't contain the power, but she could still _control_ it. She stopped trying to pull the wisps of power back into herself and instead pushed a little more out and gave it a mission. It felt its way down the building and into the alley below.

Angel half fell, half climbed clumsily off the dragon. He took a few staggering steps away from it, but stumbled when he tried to step over one of the many bodies littering the street. He fell painfully, to his hands and knees. He didn't know where the others had gone. He mentally tested the link between him and his grandchilde, and knew Spike still lived. He had no way of knowing about the others.

He felt dizzy, saw phantom flashes of light and darkness on the edges of his vision. He'd lost a lot of blood. Blood… It was all around him, the smell of it filling his nose and mouth and sticking to the back of his throat, and utterly useless to him. Demons, nothing but demons all around him. He needed mortal blood. Human was best, but animals would do. Wait. What was that? He turned his head to catch the scent again, and even that small movement made the pain in his back and body flare up again and the flashes of light and dark almost completely obscured his vision. He made himself move anyway. He'd caught the scent of human blood and he moved toward it on hands and knees.

He found the source of the scent buried under a pile of demons and parts of demons. He licked his lips, his tongue running over sharp teeth. He didn't remember vamping out. Weakly and with his vision almost completely gone, Angel pushed the demons away from his prize.

The power found its target. A body, a human body. Willow could see it in her mind's eye. A young black man, eyes open wide and unblinking. He was covered in blood and other, less easily identifiable substances. Desperate now, Willow stopped her search immediately and poured the power out of her, down the trail left by the searching tendrils, and into the body. Blood poured out of her nose and something in her knee popped painfully, and she fell into a heap on the roof. As the last dregs of power left her, so did consciousness, and she lay still and bleeding in the rain.

The power hit the body of Charles Gunn like a physical force. It jerked and convulsed, its back arching and its limbs flailing. One arm hit Angel, and he fell on his side. The delirious vampire snarled and raised himself again. Rage filled him. His prey was fighting back. He didn't have time for this crap! He viciously attacked the body, now shaking violently, and buried his fangs in Gunn's neck.

At first Angel could only pull a few tepid drops out of the corpse's neck. With no heart pumping the blood, the vampire was having a hard time getting what he needed. Then the blood was pouring into his mouth, and the body bucked under him as Gunn drew a desperate, gasping breath and tried weakly to push the vampire off of him.

With the first, wonderfully hot mouthful of Gunn's blood, Angel was flung violently back. His back arched as his muscles convulsed with the power that flowed from Gunn to him through the human's blood and continued to pour into him. He roared as the injuries on his back ground into the rough pavement below him. That pain seemed to lessen somewhat as a new, sharp pain in the middle of his chest took its place. Angel screamed until his voice was hoarse, his throat raw and dry. The pain in his chest throbbed and spread to the rest of his body. He writhed and twisted, his muscles randomly contracting and cramping sharply. It seemed to last hours. Then, all at once it stopped, leaving Angel breathless and gasping.


	3. ch3 Alive

Here's my first attempt at fanfiction... or for that matter fiction of any kind. Mostly this started as a way to fill in plot holes that have been bugging me for years now. Like, who _was_ the Doctor (I just don't believe it was Spike), and how _did _Angel get out of hell, what happened to Dawn's keyness, and what was up with that dominoes comment Doc made that one time? Anyway, it seems to have run away with me. This is a work in progress, and I welcome constructive criticism (my muse survives almost exclusively on Doritos and comments, so please comment :)).

Many thanks to my lovely beta, Mayalaen :)

**Title:** A New Dawn

******Pairing:** Spike/Gunn friendship, Spike/Dawn eventually, and maybe even a little Dawn/female OC just for the heck of it.

**Rating:** PG-13 for violence, language (ratings pertain to the chapter linked in the post. That way, if you like the first few chapters but squick easy, you can skip the NC-17's)

******Summery:** Post NFA. This one picks up where NFA left off, with our heroes facing impossible odds, at least until they get some unexpected help.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. I'm just borrowing it, and when I'm done I'll put it back where I found it.  


**Alive**

Angel lay on his back, the rain falling in his face, in his eyes. He moved an arm to shield his face, momentarily forgetting the horrific lacerations on his back. To his amazement, the movement caused no pain aside from the dull ache that seemed evenly spread throughout every muscle in his body. He still panted, gasping for air he shouldn't have needed.

Beside him, he heard Gunn stir. The young man sat up, staring around himself dazedly. He felt his body for the wounds he knew were there, but couldn't feel, and found nothing but fresh scar tissue -- shiny, smooth and pale in the dim light. He looked around again at what was left of the assembled hordes of Wolfram and Hart, seeing Angel for the first time.

"The hell?" he finally said.

Angel groaned and sat up stiffly, feeling his back and finding only smooth skin, slightly harder and less sensitive than usual. His hands, where they were burned, felt the same. When he stood up, the headache that had been small enough to ignore flared up, pounding in rhythm to his still-speeding heart and momentarily making him dizzy. He froze. His _heart_? He put a hand to his chest, but couldn't be sure he felt anything. Next he tried the pulse point under his jaw. This time he felt it clearly and unmistakably. His hear was beating. With a sense of amazement bordering on awe, he put his hand on his face and tried to vamp out, finding that not only could he not shift into his demon face, but it was as if he'd forgotten how. He wasn't somehow being _prevented_ from shifting, he simply lacked the ability to do so.

Gunn rubbed his aching neck as he stood up, and staggered as the full force of his headache hit him. The pounding lessened after a few moments of stillness, and feeling something wet on his hand, he looked and found blood. He felt his neck again, and finding more blood, turned to the vampire beside him.

"Did you bit me?" he asked with more irritation in his voice than anger.

Angel didn't seem to be listening to him. The older man stood, his fingers pressing into his neck and wearing an uncharacteristically goofy smile.

"Angel," Gunn called trying to get his attention. "I—I think I died. There was a tunnel and everything. Did you turn me into a vampire? 'Cause if you did, I am so stakin' you."

Angel finally seemed to hear him, as he looked at Gunn, grinning from ear to ear. "Gunn, c'mere, c'mere, you gotta see this." Despite his words, Angel stepped over half a demon to stand next to Gunn, his hand still pressed to his neck.

"Um, Angel…?" Gunn said, uncertain how to respond to his friend's behavior.

Angel grabbed Gunn's hand and put it to his neck. "Put your hand here. Feel that? Tell me you feel that."

"Angel, did you hit your head or something? What am I supposed to…?" Gunn's voice trailed off and his eyes widened in shock as he felt the tiny pulsing movement under Angel's skin. "Oh."

Spike's entire body hurt, ranging from the sharp pain of his many open wounds to the duller but still persistent ache of his deeper injuries, and the just-painful-enough-to-be-annoying pain in every muscle in his body. Actually, _that_ felt almost good in comparison, like the muscle pain after a good workout. Spike did love a good fight. When the last injured demon he'd tracked down had managed to simply outrun him, however, Spike had given up. Wearily and favoring the more deeply injured of his legs, he limped back to the alley.

Not too long ago, he'd felt Angel touch the connection between them, so he knew his grandsire was still alive. Well, he wasn't dead anyway. No more dead than usual. Spike had been rather busy at the time, fighting, so he'd let the link fade into the back of his consciousness again, barely there, where it usually was, like background noise he only heard anymore if he tried to. Now, though, he startled at the sudden silence. He stopped in his tracks on a sidewalk and searched for the connection. There was Dru. Hers had always been the stronger connection, more easily accessed and harder to tune out. But where was Peaches?

"Bugger," he breathed, and once more ignoring his pain and mentally shoving his exhaustion aside, he sprinted as fast as his supernatural abilities would let him back to the alley. He knew all the while as he ran how useless it was to hurry. Angel was dead. He'd be lucky if he could even find the spot where he'd died. The dust would just mix with the rain and the dirt already on the ground.

For years he'd hated Angel with a passion, barely keeping it in check for Dru's sake. Now, though, they'd both changed. Angelus had been abusive, but Angel was merely… irritable. Over the last year, Angel had come to seem less like a cruel and domineering step-father and more like family. So, Spike ran.


	4. ch4 We are the Champions

Here's my first attempt at fanfiction... or for that matter fiction of any kind. Mostly this started as a way to fill in plot holes that have been bugging me for years now. Like, who _was_ the Doctor (I just don't believe it was Spike), and how _did _Angel get out of hell, what happened to Dawn's keyness, and what was up with that dominoes comment Doc made that one time? Anyway, it seems to have run away with me. This is a work in progress, and I welcome constructive criticism (my muse survives almost exclusively on Doritos and comments, so please comment :)).

Many thanks to my lovely beta, Mayalaen :)

**Title:** A New Dawn

******Pairing:** Spike/Gunn friendship, Spike/Dawn eventually, and maybe even a little Dawn/female OC just for the heck of it.

**Rating:** PG-13 for violence, language (ratings pertain to the chapter linked in the post. That way, if you like the first few chapters but squick easy, you can skip the NC-17's)

******Summery:** Post NFA. This one picks up where NFA left off, with our heroes facing impossible odds, at least until they get some unexpected help.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. I'm just borrowing it, and when I'm done I'll put it back where I found it.  


**We are the Champions**

Gunn had never seen Angel like this, except once, on Pylea, where the vampire had walked in the sun for the first time in some 250 years. Now he was practically bouncing. Gunn searched his pockets and pulled out a gold chain with a three-inch tall gold cross dangling from it. He held the cross and chain out to Angel, his eyebrows raised in a cross between an invitation and a question. The erstwhile vampire hesitated just a moment, a vestige of his formerly instinctive fear sobering him. Then he picked up the holy item with two fingers. When it remained cool and inert, he cupped it in his palm.

"What the bloody hell is goin' on here?" Spike demanded as he reached the two men. He grabbed Angel's shoulders in his hands and looked the taller man up and down. "Hey," he said, frowning in confusion. "You're all right."

"Well, damn. Guess that makes me chopped liver," Gunn said with a laugh.

As if noticing the other man for the first time, Spike stared at him with wide eyes before breaking into a cheerful smile. "Charlie-boy!" His smile faded to be replaced by an annoyed scowl. "Doesn't anyone stay dead anymore? And what are _you_ grinnin' about?" he asked, turning to Angel. "Thought you'd be off havin' a good brood over the Victory Against Impossible Odds by now. What?!" Spike demanded, annoyed at the lack of annoyance on Angel's side.

Without a word, his beaming grandsire held up the cross in his hand. In his eagerness to show Spike, Angel nearly shoved the cross up his nose, and Spike jumped back.

"Hey, watch it!" he yelped.

"I'm human, Spike, look! The prophesy. I thought I signed it away, but—"

Spike grabbed Angel's wrist, staring intently at the hand holding the cross. "You're not smoking," he said, almost to himself.

"Yeah," agreed Angel giddily. "In fact, I think we should all take a moment to note how much smoke is _not_ coming from my hand right now. Oh, and smell that? That's _not_ the smell of burning flesh." At Spike's and Gunn's raised eyebrows, Angel amended, "Okay, I guess it is, but it's _not_ coming from me!"

Eyeing the cross warily, Spike asked, "You sure it's not just deconsecrated? Maybe someone shoved it up their bum or somethin'." Cautiously, he touched the tip of a finger to the cross and yelped in pain, jerking his hand back. "Bloody hell," he said, half in pain and half in wonder.

"Uh, Spike? You're kinda hurting my arm," Angel said.

"Oh," Spike released Angel's wrist. "Sorry." For the first time, Spike really _looked_ at Angel, saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, the unusually lifelike flush of his skin, heard the heartbeat, and there, just barely perceptible, was the scent of his blood beneath his skin. Human blood. "Bloody hell," he said again. "You _are_ human."

"Gunn, you are not dead." The small group jumped a little at the unexpected sound of Illyria's voice. "This surprises me," she continued as she reached the small group.

"Sorry to disappoint, your highness," Gunn responded.

"I am not disappointed," she said, then turned her unblinking stare on Angel. "And you are human. How unfortunate for you. You have my pity," she said.

"Don't waste the effort, Blue," Spike said, nudging her arm gently. Illyria looked at her arm in annoyance, then back at Spike. "He's as happy as a pup with two –"

"Guys?" Willow's 'voice' was fainter this time.

Gunn's head snapped up, alarmed. "Hey, did y'all—"

"I heard that earlier," Angel said talking over Charles, "It sounded like—Willow?" Uncertain, he turned the statement into a question.

Having completely forgotten about Willow's involvement, Spike now called out, asking where she was. There was no answer, and grudgingly he tried again silently. This time he 'heard' a faint reply.

"…the roof."

"Which roof?" he wondered out loud.

Illyria pointed up at the Hyperion. "There," she said, and turning to Spike, asked "What is this 'Willow'? I smell the power of a god."

"Uberwitch," he answered. "Almost destroyed the world once, from what I hear. Usually bats for the white hats, though. She's responsible for the fireworks." He gave Gunn a thoughtful look.

"I would like to meet such a powerful being," the blue demon said, and leapt gracefully onto the roof of the hotel. The vampire followed more slowly, using a fire escape.

When Angel, momentarily forgetting his new limitations, tried to follow and missed the lowest grated landing by several feet, Spike nearly fell down laughing, and had to grab the railing for support.

"Oh, Peaches! That's—," he broke down in a new round of guffaws at the look on Angel's face. "'S'a good thing I got no happiness clause hangin' over my head," he said when he could speak again, "Coz that would'a done me, right there!"

"Shut up, Spike," Angel said in a warning tone.

"Or what? You'll breathe on me?" Still snickering, Spike climbed the rest of the way to the roof.

Angel glared after him, steadfastly refusing to wish that he could shift into gameface. Gunn clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, relax, Soul Man," he said. "You know stuff like that's gonna happen, you being all Shanshu-ed up and all. Besides," he continued, now grinning, "that was kinda funny."

"Y'know, somehow that does not make me feel better, Gunn," Angel groused, stalking toward the back entrance of the hotel.

Gunn followed behind him, used to his boss' moods. "Hey, what are friends f—" Gunn jerked to a halt, his eyes wide. "Shit," he said, catching Angel's attention, who turned to look at Gunn expectantly. "Wes. What if Wes is alive, too? Man, we need to find him."

Angel had his doubts, but didn't voice them. Instead, he suggested Illyria do the honors. "She's fastest and knows exactly where he is." In any event, he told himself, they would need to collect the body.

Willow tried to move, then gave it up as a bad idea. She was pretty sure she was laying down on a solid surface, so the bobbing sensation was a bit disconcerting, as was the way the sky didn't want to sit still. She thought she remembered someone asking her questions, but couldn't recall if it was a man or a woman. Both? She definitely couldn't remember the questions or her answers to them, so maybe she just imagined it. She must be tired. Yeah, that was it. Hey, where did the sky go?


End file.
